Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. " "Vouldn't it!" replied Jack, mimicking his snuffling voice; "then shtay vere you are, and be cursed to you. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair. Vorsack.
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